


Wait for it

by Ptolemia



Series: We keep living anyway [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: (maybe), Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, M/M, fluff and angst but mostly angst but?? UPLIFTING angst, its going to be OK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 13:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5709202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ptolemia/pseuds/Ptolemia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints,<br/>It takes and it takes and it takes and we keep living anyway,<br/>We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes,<br/>And if there's a reason I'm still alive when so many have died,<br/>I'm willing to wait for it."</p><p>Poe waits for Finn to recover after the events of the film, and General Leia stops by to offer some words of advice, some words of warning... and some words of hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait for it

**Author's Note:**

> The title and quote are, of course, from 'Hamilton'. Shout out to 'Wait for it' for giving me the opportunity to weep over two of my favs at once - Leia and Aaron Burr. Combining the two saves me so much time.

What Poe wants to do - what his inner romantic wants to do, certainly - is wait by Finn's bedside until he wakes up. Probably with some flowers. _Definitely_ holding his hand.

 

Reality, as is so often the case, refuses to bend itself to his will. Frankly, it's rude, but even Poe Dameron can't bend the laws of the universe to suit himself - even if he can pout very persuasively, and has the longest, flutteriest eyelashes this side of Coruscant. None of it matters; the universe, apparently, is immune to all flirtation and charm - as is the nurse who ushers him away when Finn is wheeled hurriedly into the hospital, informing him that his friend will be in surgery for several hours, if he survives long enough to reach the operating table, and then in observation overnight. No, Poe can't 'pop in and see him'. No, not even for a second. No, his puppy eyes will _not_ be getting him anywhere - this is a medical matter, Mr Dameron, please stop pouting. The doctor who informs him that Finn is, yes, alive - stable but in a coma, no visitors for the foreseeable future in case of infection entering the room - is also unswayed by his charms, so Poe is relegated to the corridor outside Finn's room. Maybe, he reflects, glumly, shifting uneasily on an uncomfortable hospital-issue metal chair with one wonky leg and a horribly small seat, he's losing the touch.

 

There's little time for introspection, though - his vigil is brought to an abrupt end by a summons to his X-Wing. More trouble with the Order, says Jess, apologetic over the crackle of the comm line, but insistent - the whole squad's called, Dameron, she says, which means you too. So he goes, of course, because he's needed, and when he's done he comes back to the hospital, and the uncomfortable metal chair, and he waits. And he waits. And he waits.

 

The monotony is broken twice more that week by calls to action, but it's all inconclusive skirmishes and chases that lead nowhere, and Poe always returns to the stark hospital corridor exhausted and unsatisfied. Then, on the eighth night, just past midnight, he starts awake at the sound of somebody settling down in the chair beside him with a quiet sigh.

 

"Leia!" he says, when he realises who it is, scrambling bolt upright, halfway into a salute already, "I mean, your Highness. Uh. General."

She snorts. "Pick one and stick to it, Dameron."

“I- yes, sorry, right, just... surprised to see you?” says Poe, still standing awkwardly in front of her, and pitching his sentence like a question because, seriously, what the hell is the General doing at gone midnight down a deserted dead-end corridor in the inpatient wards?

She grunts. “Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd do the rounds, but I've only been round the base twice and I'm exhausted already. Must be getting old.”

"You look awful," he says, as he sits back down, because she does - haggard and wrung out, circles under her eyes. Her hair is immaculate, though. It always is. Then he realises what he's said, and half chokes on his apology, "Ah, that is- I-"

She waves a hand for silence. "No, no, it's true. I _feel_ awful. God. What a week."

"I heard about Han."

She nods, jaw clenched.

"I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm sorry enough for the whole universe. Don't need anyone else wasting time on it. That stupid-" she shakes her head, "stupid brave idiot never knew what was good for him and then I went and told him to..." she shakes her head again, gritting her teeth. " _Idiot_ ," she repeats, with feeling.

 

She puts her head in her hands, and Poe doesn't know what to do with himself as silence descends on the hospital corridor once more. Oh, he knows the General, sure - better than most, probably - but he knows her as a leader. A war hero. He knows, to put it simply, General Organa a lot better than he knows Leia. In the end he doesn't have to decide what to say, because she speaks first, staring up at the wall opposite with slightly glazed eyes.

 

"You know, when I was younger," says the General, "a long time ago, back before..." She sighs. "Before it got complicated, I was going to say, but that's a lie. Before I got tired of it, maybe. Another war, another army, another fight... Well, anyway. I used to dream about a woman. And this woman, she was old, older than me by a long way, and very kind, and very sad. But we had the same eyes. Used to think that was my mother. It gave me hope, I suppose, that I'd been loved, that I'd have the happy ending she didn't, maybe. But you know, I caught sight of my reflection at just the right angle the other day, and..." She smiles, but there's no mirth in it. "It was me. It was me, all along."

"I'm sorry," says Poe, who doesn't quite know what else to say.

The General snorts. "Oh, _you're_ sorry? How do you think I feel?" She shakes her head, briskly, like she's shaking off water. "That's the Force, though. Gives you a goddamn vision but doesn't have the courtesy to let you know who's in it, let alone what it means."

 

"Well," says Poe, ever determined to see the bright side in things, "perhaps you are mistaken, then, if the Force is so mysterious. Perhaps your mother simply looked a lot like you."

The General raises an eyebrow. "Identical?"

He shrugs. "You could be a clone."

"I had a father, too, Dameron."

"Ah, that's what you _think_."

She laughs at that, a little warmer, a little more real. "Well, you've got me there."

"See? It's going to be alright.”

“Is it, now?”

“General, surely you can't be doubting me? I'm too beautiful to lie."

 

She smiles, but she doesn't exactly gratify his boasting with a response. Instead, she nods at the door in front of them. "You're waiting for your Stormtrooper friend?"

"Ex-Stormtrooper."

"... Finn."

He nods. "Finn."

"He didn't come round after the operation?"

Poe shakes his head.

"It's been a while."

He nods.

"I was informed that Ren-" she coughs over the words, tongue tied for a moment, "Well. That your friend's injuries were-"

"Extensive, yes," says Poe, briskly. "He'll need somebody to help with physio when he recovers, which I have volunteered to assist with, of course, and-” only he wavers, now, too, “He'll be alright, won't he? The doctors can't tell me anything, apparently - next-of-kin only, or something foolish like that.” The corridor seems darker, somehow, when he admits his fears out loud, “I keep waiting, but the longer I wait I keep thinking... well, I suppose the odds can't be good with the...” he swallows, gesturing vaguely at his back, “With the lightsaber...”

The General sighs. “Better odds than mine.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I've been waiting, myself, for somebody else.”

“Luke?”

She shakes her head. Closes her eyes. Exhales. “Han.”

“I-”

“Yes,” she says, eyes flicking open, sharp as ever. “I know. Ridiculous. A lightsaber is one thing. Perhaps a man could survive that. Finn has, thus far. And I've known a few people to survive a long fall. Luke, for one. Both things together, though... and then the whole planet went up... well. But a few people made it off Alderaan, you know that? Not many. But a few. Nobody I knew, of course, but maybe this time...” Her voice barely trembles, tone factual and stern, but when Poe looks up there are tears in her eyes. He's never seen the General cry. He didn't know the General _could_ cry. “Twice over. After all I've done. I lost everything, and I clawed myself back from the brink and I saved the damn galaxy and this is what I get. And I'm still hoping that it's going to- no, worse, _believing_ that it's going to end happily. Somehow.” There's no anger in her tone, just sorrow, an old, deep, distant sadness like the void between the stars.

 

And Poe, who has never once felt in the slightest that he could comprehend the vagaries of the Force, feels for a moment as though he sees it. The Light. It's there, in the room, as though the General is stood in a sunbeam, and it isn't good, exactly, it's just right. It just _is_.

 

And then the General stands, and shakes her head, tutting sternly at herself. “Well, in any case, there's no time for me to wallow. I have far too much to be doing. Unprofessional, really– Dameron, you must think-”

Poe, who thinks nothing more strongly at that moment than that he really wants to give the General a hug, does just that.

After a moment's hesitation, she hugs back, and says, “You look after that young man of yours when he gets better, hmm?”

“I will,” says Poe, and then, “Wait, he's not _my_ -”

The General leans back a little, and raises an eyebrow.

“Well, not yet, anyway.”

She pats his shoulder. “That's the spirit.” And then- “He's going to be alright, Dameron. I can feel it.”

“Really?”

“Surely you can't be doubting me?” she says, smile reaching her eyes for the first time in a while, “I'm too beautiful to lie.”

 

 

 


End file.
